The Language of the Night
by Imaginable
Summary: “We like to think we live in daylight, but half the world is always dark; and fantasy, like poetry, speaks the language of the night" - Ursula Le Guin
1. First Glance

Chapter 1 – First Glance  
  
At first glance the teenager seemed to be an adult; the aura of demanded respect that seemed to emanate from his every body movement only increased this illusion. At second glance perhaps he was a young, but successful business man, just out of college, already climbing up high in the social and work networks. At third glance it was visible that he was only a child, or, should have been.  
  
But he was not a child. He was anything but a child. He had been insulted, ignored, and eventually, kicked out. It had been done with every intention of harm to him. With every intention to hurt him so that he would never recover from the wound. And in a way it had been successful; he would never truly be healed fully; not even time can heal some wounds. It's the ones that you can't see that hurt the most.  
  
No, he was not a child, and never would be again.  
  
But the people that surrounded him didn't bother to glance in his direction three or even two times. He was just another busy person out for his own gain. Another human being out to succeed at whatever cost; as long as he mad a profit out of it, of course. But again they were wrong. He was out for no reason other than to amuse himself. For him it was an opportunity to offer fate a chance to entertain him, a dare, if you will. Fate, it seemed, was keen on taking up the challenge.  
  
It was not one of the busy people whom fate employed however, it was not even a human; it was, in fact, a rather beautiful bird.  
  
As the teenager slowly manoeuvred his way through the London underground it became evident that he had done it before, many, many times. He smiled softly as he arrived outside a secluded shop before pushing the door open and making his way inside. No one saw him go in, and, if they had, no one would have cared.  
  
The shop had not been recently renovated. That was evident by the bare brick walls, the dusty cobwebs that hung at irregular intervals around the walls, the creaky wooden floors, the old glass shop front and the golden tinkling bell that had been set off as he entered. It was a beautiful shop. Lead glass windows lined the eaves with intricate designs, all glowing in the morning sunlight.  
  
He was familiar with it all, that much was clear. He slowly made his way up to the counter, browsing the shelves contents as he went; a slight smile on his parted lips.  
  
He was a very handsome person really. Dyed blond hair, evidently covering sable coloured locks by the dark regrowth at the top, deep blue eyes that seemed to reach into eternity and hold wells of infinite knowledge. Not that anyone was lucky enough to be able to look into them for that long. You could get lost in his eyes.  
  
He smiled as the shopkeeper emerged from the dusty recluse he had no doubt been hiding in and greeted the man familiarly. The man nodded in silent acknowledgment.  
  
"I'll never understand you Sebastian, not if I live a hundred years more than I already have" the dry voice of the elderly man showed how little he talked to others. Sebastian smiled silently before answering.  
  
"No, I don't suppose you will" the subject was dropped immediately by both of them; silent understanding running between each. Sebastian smiled; ignoring the momentary expression of curiosity that had crossed the old mans face. Sebastian was not one to dwell on the past.  
  
"So what can I do for you today Sebastian, I am curious indeed as to the nature of this call" Sebastian shrugged, carelessly running his fingers along the spines of the old books.  
  
"This and that, I'm out to enjoy the dust of an old bookstore such as yours. I'm out to find love and romance, fun and games, adventure and risks" he grinned sarcastically "aren't I always?"  
  
"I'm sorry I asked" Sebastian smiled humourlessly.  
  
"Don't be, it isn't worth it, at all" the old man shifted in his seat uncomfortably at the seriousness in the other mans voice; it was obvious he spoke from experience. He coughed nervously before quickly changing the subject.  
  
"Well then, what can I do for you?" Sebastian paused in his browsing, turning to face the old man full on.  
  
"Oh, I don't know, perhaps I could buy a book?" his entrancing eyes returned to the rows and rows of old volumes with surreptitious ease. The other man raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Yes, you could do that, this is a book store after all" a low laugh was the only reply he received.  
  
"When was the last time that you actually sold a book to a person other than myself, no, when was the last time someone, I'll make that something, we have to include other intelligent species, even entered you shop with the thought of buying a book?" there was a pause as the elder man thought for a moment.  
  
"A good question"  
  
"Do you know the answer?"  
  
"Not yet, arithmacy never was my best subject"  
  
"I'll bet" silence greeted his statement, but Sebastian didn't seem to notice.  
  
"It might have been on the 7th of February. There! Not too long ago!" Sebastian didn't miss a beat however. He looked at the other man suspiciously.  
  
"And what year might that have been in?" the book keeper wilted and mumbled something completely incomprehensible.  
  
"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that?" the man glared at him, but the severity of the gesture was softened by the slight upturning of his lips.  
  
"1863" Sebastian laughed.  
  
"I'm looking for a particular book Tom; I had a rather unwelcome visitor during the night yesterday. I had to turf her out, but I feel she might be coming back. Persistent bugger that she is" Tom's eyes lit up with curiosity and eagerness as he slowly shuffled out from behind his desk.  
  
"An interesting problem Mr Black, interesting indeed. It might help me in solving it if you could perhaps tell me a little more of you visitor" it was obvious he was not expecting an answer as he moved off to another, even dustier section of the store as soon as he had finished the sentence. Sebastian followed him, seemingly deep in thought.  
  
"It was a bird, a rather large, white, and extremely intelligent bird. It had a letter. It was delivering the letter. It was addressed to one Mr. Harry Potter, a plea for help" he spat the sentence out angrily, and a violent breeze flapped around him, unsettling dust and old bits of parchment. Tom shifted uncomfortably.  
  
"A bird you say? Well, what charms have you tried? Have you thought of cursing the owner of the bird to stop him or her sending Mr Harry Potter letters?" the last bit, the bit about 'Harry Potter' was said very, very cautiously. Sebastian frowned.  
  
"Well, the bird's owner is myself; but I disowned her" Tom raised an eyebrow. Again.  
  
"You can disown birds? Why did no one tell me about this?" he was smiling as he said it and Sebastian rolled his eyes.  
  
"The point is I can't disown her, she keeps on coming back with letters to Mr Harry Potter, and I'm looking for a spell to get rid of her. Permanently" the other paused in his examination of the bookcase he was currently standing next to.  
  
"When you say permanently, do you mean permanently or permanently" Sebastian rolled his eyes, but acknowledged the question none the less.  
  
"No, I don't want to kill her. I just want her to go away and leave me alone. And you could have just asked if I was looking for her death. Why do you always talk in riddles? I hate riddles" he inspected his watch and frowned.  
  
"You must be a bad influence for me" Tom only got another roll of the eyes as a reply.  
  
"Look, I have to go, but I'll be back later this afternoon to collect whatever books you've got on the subject. I'm late"  
  
"You've never been late before" Sebastian looked at him incredulously.  
  
"Are you kidding? I live my life in perpetual lateness. Things that should have happened years ago are only just beginning to take shape. Trust me; I've been late since my first transfiguration lesson. But that's not the point, I've got to go. See you round Tom" and he quickly made his way out of the shop and onto the street where he was once again picked up by the flowing crowd. It was going to be a long day, and boy, did he know it.  
  
~^.^~ 


	2. Faultless moment

Chapter 2 - Faultless Moment  
  
He knew the bird was there before he even opened the door. He knew what the letter would say before he even broke the seal. And he knew his own answer too. Nobody could say that he had lost control of his life. Nobody could say that he was a failure, ever, ever again. Nobody could hurt him more than he had already been hurt. He put down the letter.  
  
What would they be expecting - a young looking boy with no more than a name to give him credit? He knew that they certainly wouldn't be expecting what he had become. But that was typical of the community that he had once lived in. He absently rotated the white gold ring on his little finger, exposing glittering gems. He didn't notice, he was still thinking about how to go about with what he had planned.  
  
Would they think he was still a child? After all they did to him?  
  
He sighed and stood up from his lime green couch, turning off the blaring television; he couldn't think when the bloody thing was shouting down his ear.  
  
Would they think that they could control him? After all the lies they'd already told him?  
  
Turning around he noticed that the street lamps were off, he walked over to the door curiously, wondering if something 'magical' was going on. He could do with a bit of decent entertainment.  
  
Would they truly think that they were still his friends, or even acquittances?  
  
No, nothing magical; just a failed circuit. He sat down again; restless.  
  
Did they think that he was going to save their puny arses, or were they just trying to make whatever savoir they had got themselves look good in front of what they were expecting him to be? He could just imagine it; "This is Harry Potter, he beat you-know-who! If he can do it so-and-so must be able to!" If they thought that then they were fools out searching for fool's gold; in the end they'd only have dirt and a be a mile away from any water. Nothing good would come of it.  
  
He tossed the invitation, if it could be called that, into a roaring fire that appeared quite spontaneously in the middle of his lounge room. He had promised himself over and over; never again.  
  
Deciding that there was nothing to loose in doing so, he ambled over to his writing desk, not quite sure... In the end boredom won and he sat down quietly; thinking. How to write the letter? Be bitter, twisted, sad and regretful? Be pleased, willing to go and lick their shoes, again? Be angry, furious, tell them to go f~ck themselves? Privately he liked the last choice, but, it would hardly suit his purpose. Perhaps he could be noble; 'I don't want to go back, but I'll do it just to save the world's frikkin arse!' edit the 'frikkin' bit and it looked promising, he though to himself.  
  
He smiled, but it wasn't a sweet, relieved smile at finally being accepted. It was the smile of a predator that knows it's about to taste blood; a smile of pure satisfaction. (A/N: whenever I hear that word I think 'BENNI BENNASI!')  
  
After a few trials and quite a lot of errors, he came up with a draft. A bit more drafting and a letter with minimum amounts of 'language' was produced. The next morning when they woke up, they would find a snowy owl sitting at the end of their bed, a cream envelope attached and a quick (seemingly) reply.  
  
Chers Monsieur et Madame Weasly,  
  
Il m'a donné plaisir de recevoir votre lettre hier pendant l'après-midi. Je voudrais vous visite demain pour discuter la position d'enploi.  
  
Merci  
  
H. Potter  
  
(Roughly {Very, very, very, very roughly} translating into:  
  
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasly,  
  
I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter yesterday  
afternoon, and would be honoured to come to discuss the job  
position with you tomorrow.  
  
Thankyou  
  
H. Potter)  
  
(A/N: Sorry! Just trying out my French on you! If any of you happen to have French as your first language, do you think it might be possible for you to tell me if the above makes any sense what so ever? I would be really thankful if you did.)  
  
They would wonder why in the world Mr. Potter had written in French and never really come up with a conclusive solution. They would, however, be delighted by the contents of the letter and immediately reply.  
  
Chers Harry,  
  
Pardon je ne parle pas très bien Francais. We're delighted  
to have you back, it's been terrible lonely without you,  
and we've both missed Gryffindor winning the house cup  
every year since you left! It will be wonderful to see  
you, thankyou for accepting our invitation. See you  
tomorrow!  
  
Hermione  
  
(Sorry, I don't speak French)  
  
As he read the letter the next morning he couldn't help snorting; 'since you left' he hardly had a choice. Sebastian sneered at the paper before him and crumpled it up into an unrecognisable ball of matter. Glaring at it he chucked it out the window. One less problem to be solved, he wished all of his problems were as easy to fix, it would be great to just chuck 'em out the window along with the now not-ball-of-parchment.  
  
Gryffindor hadn't been winning then? Good he thought vindictively they deserve it.  
  
It wasn't that he disliked all Gryffindor student of the present and mostly past, if he met one he wouldn't be holding their house against them, but none the less. He just thought that they were all lying, cheating, backstabbing, idiotic, brainless, gutless, cowardly, weak, spineless, deceiving, tricking, swindling, foolish, senseless, stupid and moronic individuals. Dim-witted creatures that they were, it was probably a compliment to them.  
  
He sighed as he realised that it was time to go. Collecting his new books on Ancient Greek Curses by Gothward Greenstay and New Age Hexes, Curses and Charms by Felicity Hardings he threw a few other things in a rucksack and turned off all the electricity ready to go. He paused at the doorway and looked back at his flat. He was guessing that he wouldn't be seeing it in a while. He wiped away a fake tear.  
  
Checking that he had a bus pass, money; Galleons as well as Pounds, pence and shillings, and identification in the unlikely event that he was hit by a bus, he walked out and slowly shut the door behind him. A new day. A new world. But the same old me he thought sarcastically before apparating abruptly.  
  
~~  
  
The sunlight made the castle seem to glow in early morning, illuminating the features of the turrets with an almost surreal effect. The lake only magnified the result, shimmering deep bullion, like liquid gold.  
  
It was in that faultless moment, that the former Harry Potter learned that perhaps, he could start again, if his old... acquittances... were prepared to meet the man that was now Sebastian Black.  
  
~^.^~ 


	3. Judging Reality

** Chapter 3** – Judging Reality

(A/N: These flashbacks will not be in order; there might be one that's before the time this one is taken from and so on, just thought I'd tell you to minimis confusion)

** ~*Flashback*~**

"What are you doing?" they turned to look at him and for a moment he thought he saw a guilty expression flash across Hermione's face, why would she feel guilty? He shrugged it off as his imagination. 

"So, what do ya think about the 'Cannons chance this year Ron? I mean, they'd got that new seeker, I feel sorry for the old one, running into a bludger is a bad idea, I can tell you from experience. Think he'll be any good?" he paused and grinned "Reckon I should have tried out for seeker?" he didn't notice how Ron's hands clenched at his side. Ron was his friend, so what if he clenched his fists?

Something in that sentence made him stop short.

"Where are we going guy's, I don't think I've been here before" his voice was suddenly not as innocent as it should have been. It was not simply curious. It was, in fact, almost accusing. This time he didn't miss the furtive look they shared, however, he didn't let them know this.

He turned his head to look into the forest.

"It's dark in there" out of the corner of his eye he could see the guilty expression flicker across Hermione's face again. Something inside him was flashing a warning. Red; it was a warning about something bad. He agreed with it wholeheartedly.

"I think I'll go back now, we've got Quidditch tomorrow, and I have to finish of the rest of my defence homework" he paused to turn around but stopped as Ron grabbed his arm. For a moment they looked each other and Harry felt saddened by what he saw his friend's eyes. He knew what was coming, and he pitied them more than himself.

"You're not going anywhere mate"

** ~*End Flashback*~**

Sebastian snarled as the memory came to him. He had thought he knew what was coming; he had been wrong. He banished the memory from his mind. Not now. He had important things to do; he really shouldn't be getting worked up over such pathetic excuses for humans.

He snarled again. Idiots.

When had it started? That was a question he had pondered on many a rainy day, and many a sunny one too. When had it all started? He thought he knew the answer, but he couldn't be sure, only Ron and Hermione could tell him that.

He was sure that Dumbledore's disappearance, and his later death, had been the thing to set it off. Everyone had blamed him. It was his fault Albus had died. Wasn't it always? Whenever something bad happened, hey, let's blame it on the boy-who-lived! Then we won't have to take any responsibility and he will! It won't affect him; he's the boy-who-lived!

If only they knew he thought savagely, smiling in sublime satisfaction. If only they knew. He paused; the sun had just come out from behind Hogwarts and it was blaring a joyous welcome, he grinned softly, his savage smirk fading into a real smile; his quarrel was with the magic community, not Hogwarts, he felt as if the large castle was welcoming him home.

His smile did not last.

He quickly walked up to the castle, aware that most people would be at breakfast or getting ready for classes. It wasn't that he didn't want to be seen, he just didn't want to be gawked at.

He looked around, unsurprised that nothing seemed to have changed the Hogwarts grounds. The whomping willow, still whomping, the giant squid, still squiding and generally being squidish, and the quidditch pitch still standing tall and giving the appearance of a qudditch pitch, which it was.

If only things had not turned out the way they had… If only… if only… But they didn't… If only… If only…

The doors to the entrance hall opened for him automatically and he strolled into the large room looking as if he owned the place. What most people didn't know; was that he did. But that's another story, not for now.

There was minimal commotion as he swept through the hallways, robes billowing behind him in a very Snape-ish manner. He slowed as soon as he realised this, it wouldn't do to look a thing like Snape; bad things might happen; the curse of Snape…

He sniggered at this thought, enjoying the mental image of Snape cloning himself and half a million Snape's running around making people's hair greasy and insisting that everyone only wear black robes. _Wait… _he thought mentally _this is bad! Millions of Snape's! Disaster! Different thoughts please brain! This is traumatizing! I could be stuck in a hospitable for the rest of my life!_

He was still sniggering as he turned up in front of the stone gargoyle. His thoughts immediately flew to all the lollies he knew, he was about to start guessing when he realised that whoever the currant headmaster, or mistress for that matter, was, it was very unlikely that they would have such an obsession with muggle candy as Dumbledore had. Very unlikely indeed.

He sighed and self-consciously ran his hand through blond locks. Before staring briefly at the door, daring it to move; it did so with grudging acceptance. He smiled slightly at its display of power; it was quite big… for a statue. Still sniggering slightly he stepped inside and up to the headmaster's, or mistresses, office.

When he arrived at the top he was both disappointed, and pleased to note that the office had clearly not been touched for all the time he had been away, since Dumbledore's 'death' as it was seen. He grinned as he walked over to Dumbledore's pensieve, suppressing the urge to walk faster so he could get there quicker, this would prove his theory; prove that he was right…

He grinned in triumph as he saw the silvery substance which filled the structure; that meant that… his trail of thought was interrupted by a rather dusty painting of Dippet, one of the previous headmasters of the school, when he shouted a rustic welcome. Harry turned smiling to the beaming painting.

"Professor" he dipped his head as a sign of respect, not as low as it should have been, but none the less, Harry had a little less respect for this man than his fellow co-workers. But everyone made mistakes, Dippet had only been human, however much his mistake had cost, he had only been human.

"Harry! It's been such a long time! Where _have _you been?" Harry looked at the painting with a raised eyebrow.

"Here and there, you know; around" he paused and looked around again. "So… it was nice of them to leave Dumbledore's office alone, as a memorial I suppose" Dippet looked momentarily confused, it didn't last for long Harry thought wistfully as the small wizard started talking again.

"Ahh, but Harry, didn't you know?" there was a pause as Sebastian's thought ran along the lines of _Well… NO_

"No, I didn't" he tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, and virtually succeeded; only the pretending to be sleeping form of Phineas Nigellus. Sebastian raised a delicate eyebrow at the snorting cough that came from the frame.

"They haven't been able to; couldn't open the door, no matter what. Similar to in your fifth year I do believe" Harry blinked.

"They haven't been able to get in?" he sounded absolutely delighted and couldn't help the small satisfied smirk that payed across his lips, revealing sharp white teeth, Dippet, still oblivious, nodded in confirmation to his question.

"Quite. They were very annoyed, loud too, kept on bothering Phineas, shouting at him to let them in or some such. Most annoying. However, as you have probably noticed there was a reason for not allowing them in" Harry was surprised by the shrewdness in the old mans eyes, there _was_ a reason he had become Headmaster after all, Sebastian had been beginning to wonder.

"Yes, of course" in his mind he could see them pounding on the door, screeching, begging Phineas, he would have liked that, but… wait… he turned to Phineas's picture frame and looked at the sleeping figure, wondering absently if it was his hobby to pretend to be asleep.

"But, if I may ask Phinease, what were they doing in Grimmould place to begin with?" Phineas Nigellus was suddenly sending him a very sly smile, and Sebastian couldn't help but return it.

"Ahh, well, I might have asked them except they seemed so convinced that you were dead…" he was interrupted by the mad teenager below him.

"THEY WHAT?!" Sebastian seemed so mad that he was incapable of talking, his face however stayed the same pale golden colour, only a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks giving his anger away, at least, until you looked into his sapphire eyes.

A thought occurred to him and he visibly calmed himself.

"Well. That wasn't very nice of them was it?" Phineas snorted loudly. Sebastian glared at him and the painting went back to quietly observing.

"But, out of curiosity, how did you know it was me?" Phineas snorted again, this time not so noisily or loudly, but all them same. Sebastian ignored him, turning to the other paintings in the room; they all looked back at him calmly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. He rolled his eyes "_Well?"_

"Only you and Albus can enter the room, and, apart from some similarities you are in fact very different" Sebastian nodded thoughtfully before a smile spread across his face.

"How interesting… and convenient" he smiled again somewhat silkily at the paintings and they smiled a bit nervously back at him, he hardly noticed, his brain was clicking over with ideas and just as quickly squashing them out of existence.

"Well, I had best be going, I'm late after all" still deep in thought he waved cheerily to the pictures and made his way out of the office. Phineas Nigellus watched him leave sadly and wiping a fake tear from his eye turned to the other paintings.

"He should have been in Slytherin"

**~**^**.**^**~**


	4. Derisive Affection

Chapter 4 – Derisive Affection  
  
(A/N: Not in order)  
  
~*Flashback*~  
  
"Harry! Where you been? I've been worried sick about you! Ever since Albus..." Minerva trailed off and looked both guilty and terrified. Harry blinked in surprise; Minerva never talk about Dumbledore any more, she thought it was equally dangerous and treacherous to talk about him after he had disappeared... and now when they finally knew he was dead, was terrified to even mention his name, as though he would be watching her from the grave.  
  
Harry looked down awkwardly; he shouldn't have gone out, not without Ron and Hermione. He'd take them with him next time. He looked up briefly as the old woman hugged him but looked quickly down again as he saw the tears that were on her cheeks. He patted her back a bit uneasily and gently drew himself away from her. She didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Harry! I was so worried about you! Never do that again! Never! Next time take someone with you, though preferably not Miss Granger or Mr Weasley, something seems wrong with them" Harry was instantly offended.  
  
"My friends would never do anything to hurt me!" he sounded small and hurt even to his own ears, Minerva, suddenly not so mad, looked at him seriously.  
  
"Trust no one Harry; not even your best friends"  
  
~*End Flashback*~  
  
"Harry! Where have you been? We've been worried sick about you! Ever since Minerva..." she trailed off and shot a quick, almost devious glance towards the young messy headed teenager. He had bruises covering his face, and the faint smell of a bar clung to him like old socks. She pulled a face.  
  
The boy looked over to her, pitiful hope shining in his eyes. She smiled at him, but inside she sneered at his weakness; this was Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived in all his glory. She smiled at him sweetly; hugging him so that she didn't noticed the way a sneer marked his bruised face as well.  
  
"Come on, Ron wants to see you, it's been so long..."she started to pull him along behind her as if he was a puppy, he had to strongly resist the urge to cripple her for life; being dragged behind one of the people he hated most in the world was not high on his to-do list.  
  
"Harry!" his head snapped up in surprise and his mouth dropped open. His now green eyes widened in amazement and his hands fell lip to his sides. Looking at Ron he felt a small amount of sympathy for the red-head. He noticed Hermione's hand twitch at her side.  
  
"Shit" out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione's surprised look; a little boy like himself shouldn't be using such big words after all. Who cared? Just looking at Ron made him feel guilty; even if they had betrayed him, there were others, it was luck that had made Ron as he was now, it was unlucky that Harry had not been there; he could have fixed it. His mind stopped for a moment before he cam to a discission; who cared if his cover dropped, it was going to do so anyway, eventually.  
  
"What the fuck happened?" Hermione's mouth dropped open and Ron raised an eyebrow at his once-best-mate, but grimaced.  
  
"Death eaters caught me, wanted to know where you were, wouldn't believe me when I said I didn't have a frikkin clue" it was Harry's turn to raise an eyebrow.  
  
"Wouldn't surprise me, it's something those bastards would do" he paused and looked at Ron shrewdly "you better not expect me to fix it or anything, I'm really not in the mood" before Ron could even open his mouth Hermione had interrupted him.  
  
"Listen Potter" she sounded so alien to Harry that he took an unconscious step backwards "We know you can't do anything to help him. The only reason we've made you come was to ask you to take the potions position. Do you want it? Snape resigned and no one else wanted the job, surely its better than you hoped for?" Harry blinked at her and then calmly responded.  
  
"What about DADA"  
  
"I wouldn't trust you with it. Any way, I'm teaching it" Harry snorted, having the effect of making Hermione growl in her throat.  
  
"I pity your poor students, how will they ever learn anything?" he felt Hermione's anger well up as she made an odd strangling noise in the back of her throat. He grinned and suddenly the small snivelling form of 'Harry Potter' disappeared before their eyes, only to be replaced with a grinning man who looked quite a few years older than them. He had intelligent blue eyes and blonde hair. He smirked at them.  
  
"A pleasure to meet you" he held out a hand with a glittering band on his smallest finger "Sebastian Black" for a moment Hermione had gone silent.  
  
"Where's Potter and who are you?!" Ron didn't say anything. Sebastian seemed to think for a moment before answering.  
  
"I once knew someone called Potter, when I was young. He was mates with Sirius, why would I know where he was?" Hermione was not smiling.  
  
"Where is he?"  
  
"You know, I think he might be dead, some git killed him and his wife I think, not too certain on the details, I think there son lived though, someone named Harry?" seeing that Hermione was too incenced to stop him he continued.  
  
"As I recall the boy went to live with his aunt and uncle or something like that. But I still don't see what that has to do with me?" surprisingly it was Ron who spoke.  
  
"If you don't know where he is, why were you pretending to be him?" Sebastian turned so he was facing the bed and Ron, pointedly making sure his back was facing Hermione.  
  
"It suited by purpose. You never would have let me in otherwise" but Ron, injured beyond repair saw the wink the other directed towards him, as well as the flash of green that suddenly appeared in his deep blue eyes, disappearing almost as soon as it had come. He smiled. (A/N: Going for a Macbeth thingo here, you know... the guilty becoming innocent, the innocent becoming guilty)  
  
"That's not really an answer you know" Sebastian paused and thought again.  
  
"Hmm, you know what? You're right. Here, I'll give you a reward for getting full marks!" Sebastian pulled out a long, thin piece of black wood and waved it over Ron. The redhead gasped as a rush of pain hit him, nearly resulting in heart failure. For a few seconds he couldn't breath and he felt sure that Harry was killing him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a wormish thing whispered to him; is this how it felt like for him...? Did he have to feel this...? Is it due revenge...? And then, suddenly, the pain had gone as if it had never existed and he felt surprisingly good.  
  
Sebastian had not moved from his bed post and at the look Ron directed towards him brought up a finger to his mouth. Silence. As Ron's sound returned he noticed Hermione screeching at the top of her lungs, she sounded honestly scared and concerned. Not to mention furious.  
  
"...ASTARD! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HIM! I'LL KILL YOU! GET AWAY FROM HIM! STOP IT OR ELSE I'LL HURT YOU SO MUCH THAT YOU WON'T EVER BE ABLE TO WA..." he quickly tuned out again and sunk below the covers on his bed, felling surprisingly little pain as he almost drifted off to sleep. He drew his hand up to scratch his nose absently, wondering if Hermione had stopped shouting yet.  
  
And suddenly froze.  
  
He stayed very still, whilst he poked his head out from under all the sheets that covered him, noticing for the first time that it was hot and that he beginning to run out of oxygen. He looked towards Sebastian.  
  
As if he had felt Ron's eyes on him, Harry turned to face the Weasley, noting the confused look on his face. He again put a finger to his lips, indicating silence. Ron obliged.  
  
And then, suddenly, silence did fill the ward. Hermione had stopped shouting insults at Sebastian; only she seemed unaware of this. It took her thirty seconds; maybe even a minute for her to figure out no sound was coming out of her mouth. When she did she stopped and turned towards both of them, who had identical looks of surprise and amazement on there faces. She blushed scarlet and motioned for Sebastian to remove the curse before she tackled him.  
  
He did so.  
  
"Harry, I'm so sorry" he almost gagged on the saccharine voice that flowed from her mouth; instead, he had a coughing fit, turning to Ron wide eyed, who returned his look. He turned back; collected.  
  
"Harry, can you ever forgive me?" suddenly serious he narrowed his eyes at the bushy haired woman in front of him and answered simply.  
  
"No"  
  
~^.^~ 


	5. Magic Command

****

**Chapter 5** – Magic Command

(**A/N**: I might've told you about this, but the flashbacks ARE NOT IN ORDER) **Flashback**  
  
"Sir, you wanted to see me?" he stepped into Dumbledore's office, looking at the familiar objects that were scattered around the room. As he looked into the headmasters eyes he felt the usual overwhelming sense that he was not alone echo through his body. Dumbledore nodded in confirmation.  
  
"Yes Harry. I have something to discuss with you, please take a seat" Harry sat.  
  
"Harry, something very serious is about to happen and I am going to need your full co-operation in what is about to come" he paused looking at Harry, waiting for affirmation. Harry nodded curiously... something serious?  
  
"Yes, Harry, I can see what you are thinking and the answer is yes. Something very serious. I am going to need your help" he paused again, this time to pull something out of a drawer in his desk. Harry watched it avidly, wondering... wondering...  
  
"Inside this envelope is something very important Harry. Do now open it just yet, you will know when to open it" he handed it over and Harry felt it up and down, trying to find out what was inside, but willing to do as the headmaster commanded. He looked up, expecting to see the ever-present twinkle in his headmasters eyes, instead, a grave look replaced his normally sparkling eyes.  
  
"Harry, this is very important. What is inside that envelope is yours and yours alone. No one else will be able to open it and no one else can claim it. It is yours. It is something that cannot be taken from you. Be careful." He absently opened the tin of lemon drops that was on his desk, still deep in thought.  
  
"Sir, Can I come and see you tomorrow? I wanted to ask you about the Dark Arts homework we have, but it's sort of late now..." he trailed off, waiting for an answer.  
  
"Better do it now Harry, I may not be around tomorrow" Harry looked scandalised by the mere idea and scowled at his professor, but pulled his bag out anyway. Dumbledore smiled a small sad sort of smile at him, which he slowly returned.  
  
"Lemon drop?"  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
Silence filled the ward.  
  
It was, oddly enough, the silence that comes just before a war; the calm before the storm; deaths last decision and life's last hope. It was, however, peculiarly satisfying for Sebastian.  
  
It might have been the surprise that had melted onto Hermione's face, the way all colour drained from her face as she looked at him, the way her mouth had fallen open into a perfect O shape, and the fact that her hands had fallen limp to her side. Or it might have simply been the almost-pain he saw in her eyes.  
  
"Never?" her voice was small and suddenly he saw the old Hermione pocking through. His lips curled in a show if disdain.  
  
"Never" tears slowly formed on her cheeks and rolled down, dripping off the end of her nose onto the floor. Harry laughed.  
  
"You're gonna have to take better classes than that Hermione. Do I look like an idiot?" almost a foot taller than her, with short blond hair and furious blue, almost grey, eyes he didn't look like and idiot at all. She gulped and took a step backwards, shaking her head quickly in denial.  
  
"Good, I don't particularity feel like one either. That won't be changing anytime soon" there was only nodding for the stunned Hermione; it seemed all she was capable of. His eyes narrowed in obvious dislike and he glared at her.  
  
"I hate you" Hermione held in a laud sob and Harry's eyes, if possible, narrowed even more.  
  
"Now, if you wouldn't mind leaving while I talk to Ron?" no, she certainly didn't mind. She left.  
  
"How did you do it mate?" Ron's voice was chocked, emotional.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"You know mate"  
  
"Make Hermione go? I asked her to le – "Ron interrupted him, looking surprisingly angry.  
  
"Please Harry. Just tell me, how would be nice, but what I'd really like to know is why" there was silence, and for a moment Ron was sure that Harry was not going to answer.  
  
"My name is not Harry now, it's Sebastian" a slow tear trickled down Ron's cheek, he hurriedly wiped it away, not wanting Sebastian to see that his answer had hurt him. But Sebastian was observant however. He saw.  
  
"It's called magic Ron, a little thing you might have heard of" Ron blinked stupidly at Sebastian and the aforementioned sighed in resignation, taking a seat on an empty bed.  
  
"Ummm... magic, well, I might have guessed that" Sebastian looked pleased.  
  
"You're further than I thought you were, well, that's good, you know that magic exists. Next, have you heard of a sort of magic called war magic?" Ron nodded, fascinated.  
  
"Good, well war magic isn't just magic to do with war, well I guess it is, but healing is as much a part of war as the killing bit is. But, the catch is, it takes a lot of power to control war magic. A lot. And, of course, it takes a while to learn it, the quickest anyone has completed the training is after two hundred and sixty-eight years, so like I said, it's hard to learn. But, if you have the right materials, then you can do it" he looked at Ron, checking the red headed boy was still with him.  
  
"There are different branches to complete, and when I say different I mean diverse, and when I say that, I mean diversity, and when I say that, I mean a lot of diversity. It takes about a Century to complete one branch, so, out of the several million there are, not many have managed to get that far. It's understandable, no?" Ron nodded; yes.  
  
"Voldemort has those powers. He has two of the most common and, of course, most powerful there are; Control and Increase, as well as that he knows a little elemental, but that's all he has – "he was interrupted however by Ron.  
  
"ALL HE HAS?" Sebastian looked completely non-plus and nodded, looking almost confused.  
  
"Mmm, but anyway –"  
  
"ALL HE HAS?" it looked as if red and white were battleing on Ron's face, it was a splotchy red in some patches and paper white in others. Sebastian simply looked annoyed.  
  
"Yes Ron. All he bloody well has! Now if you will let me continue I can finish the story!" Ron looked down, still muttering slightly under his breath.  
  
"But, he can't use the elemental until he has at least one hundred years experience, or until his tutor lets him, it's sort of like using magic in the hallways; you end up either getting a detention or some punishment or other. Anyway, Tom seems sort busy at the moment so I doubt that he'll be able to start controlling elemental any time soon. Still, best to be prepared" he looked at Ron, who seemed to have forgotten that he was meant to be spluttering over the fact that Voldemort had control of two branches; he was immersed in the story.  
  
"So, anyway, that's it" Ron looked disappointed, then confused and after that mildly angry.  
  
"That's it? Don't I get to ask questions?" Sebastian nodded reluctantly.  
  
"Ok, well, first question, how did you heal me?"  
  
"Later"  
  
"Fine. Second question; why did you heal me?" Sebastian looked at him as if he was stupid.  
  
"You really don't want me to answer that"  
  
"Yes I do"  
  
"Fine"  
  
"Tell me! Wait... what did you say?"  
  
"Fine"  
  
"Wonders never cease"  
  
"I was bored" he said it so blandly Ron almost choked. Sebastian looked over at him with his arms folded.  
  
"Why else?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know"  
  
"Then what's wrong with my answer?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, nothing at all"  
  
"Riiiiight... Well, on with your interigation"  
  
"Great. Third question; have you, or have you ever had Battle Magic?"  
  
"Yes and yes" silence greeted this statement.  
  
"What 'branches' do you have"  
  
"I think you might mean 'what's the answer to life the universe and everything'"  
  
"No, I mean what branches do you have?"  
  
"No, you mean 'what's the answer to life the universe and everything'"  
  
"Fine! I mean 'what's the answer to life the universe and everything!'" Sebastian smirked.  
  
"Now, that I can answer, well at least, I know the answer, I can't take credit for it, only one man deserves that and his name is Douglas Adams, great guy"  
  
"Yes, now, what's the answer?"  
  
"42"  
  
"42? Oh right, I should have known, 42, I mean how obvious"  
  
"You asked for it" Ron sighed.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose I did"  
  
"Yes. You did"  
  
"Still, I want to know what branches you have, I'm curious, that's for sure, but that's all thanks to you, so don't go trying to change the subject on me!" Sebastian looked down at his own bed, the white sheets so perfectly pulled and the pillow fluffy, but not excessively, and sighed in resignation.  
  
"Ok Ron. No interrupting though, some if this, actually, most of this, is going to come as a surprise to you" Ron nodded his understanding and pretended to seal his lips.  
  
"Ok, these are the braches I've got, ready?" Ron nodded again.  
  
"You really don't want to tell me this do you?" It was Sebastian's turn to nodd.  
  
"Not at all mate. Not at all"  
  
"Go on"  
  
"Ok, ok, I have Necromancy, Telepathy, Elemental, Sight, Wandless Magic, Increase, Evaluation, Knowledge, Truth, Silence, Shifting, Fault and my strongest, as should be obvious, Healing" Ron only just managed to get his jaw off the floor.  
  
"Told you. 42 divided by 3. Life. The Universe. Everything. 14 x 3. That should have been obvious" Ron shook his head sadly.  
  
"It wasn't. Trust me. It wasn't"  
  
"I make a habit of not trusting anyone who says 'trust me'"  
  
"Good to know"  
  
"Yeah"  
  
"So, that's it, really?"  
  
"Really really. On this, you just gotta trust me"  
  
******.******


End file.
